Youth Basketball, Wheelchair Mayhem, and Butt-Wiping

Our youngest son was playing in a youth basketball league recently, and the coach called a time-out during the third quarter. He pulled all the players together in a huddle, and reportedly yelled, “What’s wrong with you guys today?! You’re playing like a bunch of crippled girls!”

After the team came back to win, in an exciting down-to-the-wire finish, he told them it was because of his “crippled girl speech.” That’s what he called it, and apparently fancies himself a modern-day Lombardi now.

Next time I see him, at Rite-Aid or Bennigan’s, he’ll probably be sporting a full trench coat and hat.

But here’s how it’ll play itself out… I’ve seen this kind of thing before. Next year, still jacked-up on success, he’ll be the first parent to volunteer, and will, at some point during the season, feel compelled to break out his inspirational sermon again.

Only this time he’ll probably take it up another notch (I know human nature), and replace “crippled girls” with “big retarded babies” or “passel o’ water-heads,” or something along those lines. And a parent will hear about it – a parent who doesn’t share my, um, sensibilities – and the whole world will come crashing down on the poor bastard.

Yeah, I could warn him about it. But where would be the fun in that?

At a previous basketball game, the same coach was trying to get his team whipped into a frenzy, and instructed the kids on the bench to “make some noise.”

The younger Secret was sitting out that quarter, and loves to “make some noise,” as do most fourth graders. Man, the volume was amazing. The shrillness… the piercing tones… the insanity… I wanted to ask the coach, “Why? Why in God’s name??”

It was almost impossible to hear any individual kid and figure out what they were hollering, but I zeroed in on our son and tried my best. And I thought I could hear/lip-read him saying the words “Cheap Trick.”

The hell?

After the game, I asked what he was yelling, and he said, “Thank you, Tokyo! Cheap Trick says goodnight!!” I’m not really sure what I think about that, but for some reason it makes me proud.

I have a cousin who is a truck driver (needless to say), and he recently “lost an engine” on the road. Since the repair job promised to be lengthy and involved, he took a Greyhound bus home.

And when they stopped somewhere, he says there was a male nurse (or somesuch) pushing an enormous woman in a wheelchair, both waiting to board the bus. My cousin got off to buy a Coke, and overheard the following conversation between some random man, and the person pushing the chair.

When my cousin got back from the vending machines, they had the wheelchair, along with its ample cargo, situated on a hydraulic lift. They were trying to get her onto the bus, but he said the motor was laboring a great deal.

Finally, he reports, something gave-out, there was a loud hissing sound, and the platform collapsed. And when she hit the ground, the chair bounced from its clamps, and it and the woman went rolling over an embankment.

Can that possibly be true? I have my doubts. It reminds me of the stories I used to hear when I worked at a convenience store in West Virginia. You know: super-exaggerated boolshit.

But it made me laugh, nonetheless.

Surf Reporter Todd sent me a link to this YouTube clip, that had me howling. Man, that’s good stuff. Because it’s true, so very true.

And there’s been coverage, over the past few days, about how evil Americans are ruining the Earth, once again, with their decadent ways. This time, through the use of fancy-pants toilet paper… Here’s but one news article; there were plenty of others.

Also, a few of you sent me this related link, to a site where it’s possible to purchase reusable shitrags. Can you imagine? I cannot. Blecch.

In any case, it leads us to the Question of the Day… Have you ever wiped with anything other than toilet paper? How’s that for a discussion subject, hmmm?

For the record, I don’t think I have. In England I was forced to use something the consistency of copier paper, but it was on a roll and still technically TP. I’ve never found myself in a situation where I had to wipe with a sock, or a handful of leaves, or a river current, or the spinning wheel of an exercise bike.

What about you? Tell us about it, won’t you? Or any butt-wiping tales, for that matter…. And while we’re at it, if you have anything on wheelchair mayhem, that would be fantastic, as well.

Comments

I watched with horror as a friend pinched one off on a public barbecue late one evening in our youth in exchange for a Big Mac. We certainly didn’t ask him to turn the bbq on, but that’s exactly what happened. *shudder* There was no TP involved, just a clean pinch (apparently).

if we all had to start using cloth asswipes for the sake of the environment, we would more than negate any good done by increasing the amount of water and electricity from doing all the extra loads of laundry. We’d pour gallons upon gallons of harsh chemicals into each load, which would make its way into our rivers, lakes and oceans, eventually destroying a major food source and disrupting the balance of the planet.

Reusable ass wipes mean the end of the world and the destruction of humanity as we know it.

After getting pissy drunk one night, I decided to pay the douche bag who’d recently dumped me a visit.
It was almost four in the morning and as I staggered toward his house, I contemplated what to say to him when I got there.
On the way I got the urge to shit and that’s when my evil plan materialized out of thin air…
I got to his house and took a shit on his front porch. Then I wiped my ass with my hand and put shitty hand prints on the door knob and door. I wiped again and decorated his car with the same.
Then I staggered over to the neighbors house and hosed myself off before wandering home again.

Honeymoon trip to Greece! Beautiful resort (Little white villas with blue roofs!) Bathroom consisted of a hole in the floor with two cement footprints either side so you knew where to place your feet! and a large waste paper basket filled with USED T.P.! it seem their plumbing ain’t powerful enough to handle the paper! Houskeeping never got around to emptying the bin in the week we were there!

About two years ago, I started using flushable wet wipes after my initial dry wipe. It was a world changer. If you have never used this method, try it. You don’t know what you are missing.

I went to a NASCAR race in Charlotte around ’96. One of my friends had to take a shit and there was no avoiding it. He HAD to go, like right now.
We trekked to the closest row of portajohns outside the race track and as we opened them up one by one, we discovered they were in expectedly deplorable condition. Each toilet literally looked as if someone had poured chili to within an inch of the rim and none had any toilet paper.
It was common knowledge that said friend was a freeballer also known as one who goes commando. You know, doesn’t wear any underwear. He also had only sandals on. His attire consisted solely of a t shirt and a pair of shorts.
He went in, did his business and came back out. We started walking around and after about five minutes, one of our group asked how he had wiped his ass. He just simply said “I don’t ever want to talk about that.”
And we never found out.

What a great topic. And I must say the reporters are not disappointing today!
When I was 15, my buddy and i were walking from my house to another friend’s. Along the way, we cut through some woods and my buddy proclaimed he had to take a dump, so he popped a squat in the woods and went to town. He did what he could with leaves, but said he’d “finish up” at our other friend’s house when we got there. Unfortunately, he must have ate something that brought on his unnecessary dump (only about 1/4 mile short of our friend’s house mind you), because he stunk to high hell! When we got to our friend’s, his mom answered the door and just stared at my shitting friend as he bolted for the bathroom.

I was a camp counselor at a camp for mentally and physically handicapped kids in the 1970’s…lots of Downs Syndrome, or mongoloids, as they were referred to then (amoungst our selves we counsellors called them ‘gloids. The othres we referred to as “retreads” or more simply, ‘treads.

Yup… Gloids and Treads…yes we are all going to hell. Anyways, I was pushing this gelatinous mass of pimply Gloid dome to the swimming pool for afternood swim. His name was Alfred. Alfred had a penchant for spotting food item within 100 yards. Upon seeing his edible target, Alfred would make hooting and clicking noises…showing off his huge purple gums and 7 mishapen and misplaced teeth. That day at the pool someone had dropped a few Good & Plenty candies near the edge of the pool. Alfred saw them and propelled the wheelchair himself with his stubbly flipper-like arms and Vienna sausage fingers towards the white and pink candy goodness. The little front wheels of the wheelchair hit the raised edge of the pool…the chair did a complete somersault with the pimply gloid still strapped into the seat and rocketed into the deep end of the pool…8 feet deep.

I turned to my friend Kirky and said…”It’s your turn to go after him, ’cause I had to wipe his ass this morning after breakfast. I’m done for the day with that mess”.

Jeff…Awesome topic! There are lot’s of “poopy-people” out there. You either love it or hate it but even if you hate it EVERYONE has a poop story!! Mine?…Well, got one of those intestinal bugs during a Steeler playoff game at our local watering hole. Hit me like a lightening bolt…Jesus! Hoping to hold it while driving home, practically doubled over with cramps, I had to let go. OMG!!! Instant relief!!! But driving a stick shift, trying to keep my ass off the cloth seat, and clenching with everything I had….it was the “shat” of a lifetime. Shat, Shit, Poop, Crapola…running down my legs and into my shoes all while driving. There was no turning back. Once home.. got out of the Tomb of Duke I was driving and hit the shower, clothes and all! Wiped with a couple bars of soap!!!

Being a redneck hillbilly hayseed I’ve used all sorts of stuff to wipe my ass. I’ve used everything from leaves to corn cobs to old socks to toilet paper tubes to those blue towels they have for windshield cleaning at the gas station. I must also admit that once in a state of great drunkenness and desperate need I have wiped my ass on a small furry animal.

People shouldn’t knock corncobs by the way. Nice fuzzy soft corncobs are as nice as any store bought charmin. You also have the advantage of a built in handle.

I actually keep a can of nice soft corncobs in my outhouse. That’s right. I have an outhouse. Yes I have not one but three bathrooms inside the house but living out in the sticks I also have an old fashioned outhouse. I love it. In fact I’m planning on building a new one in a year or so.

Here’s a theory of mine for you to try. Any time you have a group of people who already know each other sitting around for any length of time, the conversation will always eventually end up at poop in some context.

Does the corn cob method involve inserting part of the corn cob into the rectum? I’ve always wondered that, even as a young kid. Our toilet has a hand held remote control because it has several options. You can get a blast of water and there’s even a small electric toothbrush looking attachment that works on the brown starfish.

The girlfriend of a brother of someone I know recently came back from studying in Africa and, in that way only people who’ve been someplace exotic for too long do, revealed that she’d taken up the custom of wiping with her bare hand (this in turn dictates all sorts of handshaking etiquette) and that “it’s much simpler, actually,” and something about not wasting trees.

Eons ago, I used to date a Moroccan man who adhered to the right hand/left hand custom but mercifully learned to add the use of TP. He also took it one step further and only pooped at home so that he could shower afterward. (He had an iron gut and had enviable control over his bowels. Never strayed from the routine.) That was well before the advent of diaper wipes for adults. I suspect his toilet habits may be a lot simpler now.

Whoever thought of marketing those things to adults was a genius. What I save in not constantly buying new underwear and industrial quantities of Shout, I spend on the wipes. Laundry day got a lot less gross for me.

Brandy- Thank you!!! I am afraid to check for a new post for fear that I will have to read about the disturbing ways my fellow surf reporters are cleaning their nether regions.
Here’s a tip- If you know that you are going to be in a situation where the necessay facilities are not going to be available or the conditions less that acceptable take an Immodium AD and WAIT UNTIL YOU GET HOME!

My grandfather used to insist that my grandmother only buy him t-shirts with a pocket. That way, if he needed to improvise , he could tear the pocket off the t-shirt and use that. We’d fall over laughing when we saw grampa wearing a t-shirt with holes where the pocket used to be.

The worst I’ve personally wiped with is probably leaves. But I have a friend who in college we dared to duece off the top of a 10 ft. sculpture. So after many beers he gets up there and does his business. It was a sloppy one so even as drunk as he was he wasn’t going to attempt the climb down with his pants around his ankles. So he is yelling at my friends and I for leaves and paper towel to wipe with. Us being drunk too only threw him pine cones and sticks. I think we later had to dodge those now shitty pine cones and sticks…he wasn’t very happy.

I used to wait tables while I was in college and we had a band one night that absolutely packed the entire place. We were short-staffed and everyone was running around trying to keep up with drunk rednecks and haggard old cougars. I was at the server well with another waitress waiting for drinks from the bartender when this absolutely irate girl comes up to us and starts screaming that we were out of toilet paper in the ladies’ room and that she had to *pick pieces up off of the floor* so that she had something to wipe with.

So this isn’t a non-toilet paper story, but really, who picks TP up off of a filthy bar bathroom floor to wipe with???

On my first trip to Ukraine in 1999, I took along three rolls of the most decadent capitalist toilet paper. I noticed that everyday in my hotel room the roll was getting far smaller than my usage accounted for. I ended up keeping it in the safe with my passport and valuables.